Curing Dudley
by Arnel 63
Summary: Petunia Dursley seeks Harry's help with curing Dudley's magical tendencies.
1. Chapter 1: The Conflict

**Chapter 1: The Conflict**

**Author's Notes:** This is the first section of a three-chapter story. It explains the backstory for what is to come in the next two chapters. I hope you enjoy it and will feel compelled to leave a review. I need to thank Mutt n Feathers, Rebecca Ripple, RSS and Manatoc Fox for their invaluable input, which helped clear up a few things and make the chapter better. They're a great group of pre-betas.

**Late August 1995**

Although it was the middle of the day, the drapes in Dudley Dursley's bedroom were tightly drawn, shutting out as much light as possible. Instead of natural light, the room's source of illumination was a blaring telly, which was currently playing a repeat of the program "Spitting Image." However, the single occupant of the room wasn't watching. Instead, Dudley was sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the one thing that had occupied his mind ever since his cousin had left two weeks ago: the things he'd seen when the Dementoid had hovered over him.

Yes, he _had seen_ the thing, and not just felt it! That was the scary part, mostly because Harry had said something about Muggles only feeling the Dementoids' effects. But Dudley had seen the floating, gliding Dementoid. He had heard its rattling breathing, felt its ice cold fingers on his wrists, smelled its rancid breath, and seen the horrible, gaping hole it had for a mouth. URGH! After Harry had chased it away with that horse-ghost thingy of his, Dudley had lain on the ground shaking from head to foot, trying desperately to get the awful vision out of his head. It had only been the appearance of batty old Mrs Figg that had snapped him out of his fright enough to let Harry drag him home.

The rest of the evening had flown by in a blur of raised voices, a procession of owls and the very comforting thought that Harry had dug himself into a very deep hole because he'd done magic when he wasn't supposed to. Dudley had clung to that happy thought in the days to come whenever thoughts of the Dementoids crept into his mind. This happened so often that Piers, Gordon and Malcolm had complained that Big D wasn't his usual robust self. Dudley had throttled Piers hard the last time he mentioned that Big D wasn't any fun any more, putting a stop to the complaints. Unfortunately, that did nothing to stop the nightly dreams…

Dudley's dreams had always been a pleasant mixture of his own fantasies and the memories of bullying the neighbourhood's younger children. After Harry left, though, Dudley had begun dreaming of that night and couldn't help wondering if Harry was suffering from nightmares, too. When the visions became so frequent that he'd begun seeing them during the day, Dudley had made his excuses to his friends and shut himself in his bedroom. It was easier to think about what had happened in the alley with the drapes closed and the telly for cover noise.

Currently, Dudley was reviewing what he'd seen flash through his mind as the Dementy-whatsit had hovered over him. He didn't like the feelings of utter helplessness– something he hadn't felt in a long time–they engendered because they reminded him of how he used to be…

The Demented-thingies had dredged up a very early memory that Dudley had sworn he'd buried deep in his subconscious. It had taken place when he was five and was his first real memory from primary school. He had waddled up to a group of older boys standing in the schoolyard during break because one of them was holding Dudley's ball. The boys had thought it very funny to hold the ball high over his head and make him jump for it. They called him Fatso when he began crying in frustration and when he kicked one of them in the leg, they turned mean, kicking and punching him until the bell rang. As he'd followed the boys back inside, his shirt torn and a lump forming on his head, Dudley had vowed never to let anyone make fun of him again; from then on he'd be the one doing the hitting and kicking, thank you very much. And he did. Within a week, Dudley had pummelled Piers, Gordon and Malcolm into being his followers and now, after years of helping them become bullies like himself, they were a tight-knit group feared by the neighbourhood children. Even so, there were times when being the biggest bully on the block wasn't satisfying any more…

The feelings of inadequacy and jealousy had intensified when Harry turned out to be a much more popular person than Dudley had ever dreamed of being. It had all started with those damned letters delivered by those owls Dad hated so much: not only were they from the stupid school Harry attended, but they came from his group of friends, too. On top of that, three summers ago, one had called him on the telephone, making Dudley's dad extremely angry. Dudley had laughed when Harry had been punished, but for some reason he hadn't enjoyed his cousin's discomfort nearly as much as he normally would because of one thought: _Piers, Malcolm and Gordon don't call me… I call them._

Now, thoroughly depressed, Dudley rolled over and faced the wall, wondering if he was good enough to make and stay on the boxing team this coming term.

Downstairs in the kitchen Petunia Dursley sat at the table sipping a cup of tea. She was worried about Dudley, but knew that if she said anything to him, he'd just snap at her to leave him be.

What was worrying her most were some unnatural things she'd seen him do since Harry had left. There were tell-tale signs that her precious Dudders was a wizard, things like moving objects and blinking lights that he'd caused when he seemed to be emotional, things they normally blamed on Harry. The other night, when Vernon had told Dudley to get washed up early for bed, the lights had suddenly dimmed in synchronization with his angry refusal to do so until his program was over. Vernon had remarked about the striking utility workers causing trouble with the power plants, but Petunia had noticed that none of the other houses on the street had flickering tellies or dimming lights.

"Oh, Dudders," she sighed in despair, "can't you suppress your unnatural tendencies and be the _normal_ son we've always wanted you to be?"

If she had to admit it to herself, she was afraid to tell Vernon what was happening because of his reaction. She didn't want him to rupture an artery during the angry outburst that was sure to happen when he learned Dudley just might be magical…

**January 1998**

They had been in the safe house since the last of July and by now Dudley had become friends with Dedalus Diggle. When Dedalus and Hestia had first brought them here, he'd shied away from both of them until the day Dedalus had caught Dudley thinking about making his bed and actually doing it from across the room…

_"Dudley, my boy!" the tiny little man exclaimed in delight from the doorway. "I knew there was magic in your blood! You can't be Lily Potter's nephew and not be a wizard! Oh, wait until I tell Petunia!"_

Dudley gulped and shrunk back onto his bed. "No, Mr Diggle, please don't tell my parents!" he had begged. "You know what they're like. I don't want to anger my dad."

"Come now, Dudley," Dedalus said kindly, coming into the room, "doing accidental magic isn't a crime, it's a gift."

"Not to my mum and dad," Dudley told him. "I know what they did to Harry to try to crush the magic out of him. I don't want them doing that to me!"

Dedalus hopped up beside him and laid a hand on his elbow. "I won't tell them unless you want me to." Dudley sagged in relief at that, but Dedalus wasn't finished. "Dudley, how do you feel about magic?" he asked. "I want your own opinion, not your parents'."

Dudley thought long and hard, trying to assimilate his true feelings. In the silence, a biro he had left on his desk rose an inch above the essay he'd been writing the night before and began floating across the room towards him. Dudley turned to Dedalus and snapped, "Don't do that! You're distracting me!"

"Dudley," Dedalus squeaked, "I'm not levitating the pen. That's your magic making it float."

Sighing, Dudley whispered, "I guess I know my answer. I'm afraid of magic, of being a wizard. I don't want these things to happen, but when they do, I'm happy I have enough magic to do stuff like that."

"So what you're saying to me is that you're conflicted about magic," Dedalus summarised.

"Yeah, but it's more than that. I… I think I've been jealous of Harry since he started doing magical stuff; he could do things I couldn't and I wanted to do them, too. That's why I've always been horrible to him and because I thought I was helping my dad squash the magic out of him, he wouldn't be better than me, then."

Dedalus chuckled. "Dudley, you can never squash magic out of a wizard. It just makes them angry enough to blow things up."

The memory of Aunt Marge bobbing against the dining room ceiling flashed across Dudley's consciousness and he couldn't help the snort of mirth that escaped him.

"What's so funny?" Dedalus had asked.

Dudley told him the story and ended it saying, "Harry was always enlarging things or making them shrink. Inflating Aunt Marge was bound to happen because of how spiteful she acted towards him. After the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad left, I realized that a very dull evening had turned out to be the best I'd ever had around Aunt Marge. That night, Harry did what I'd wanted to do for several years! I was so jealous!" He paused and then asked, "Is it true that if someone, a non-magical person, has been around magic all their life, can they 'catch' magic or take it from someone?"

Dedalus slid off the bed and stood before Dudley. "I have a very definite answer to that question, laddie. The answer is 'NO.' You cannot steal magic or 'catch' it from someone because witches and wizards are born, not made. Have you been reading the rubbish they're still printing in the

Daily Prophet_ Hestia insists on leaving around this house?" Dudley nodded. "Well, just take that drivel with a grain of salt. Eighty percent of what's published in that paper isn't true, especial that nonsense having to do with the Muggle-born Registration Commission. They're saying that a third of the magical population has stolen magic from pure-blood witches and wizards and that's not accurate at all: it's just another way the Death Eaters are terrorizing the Wizarding community."_

"This Muggle-born Registration Commission… is it true they're ruining the lives of Muggle-born wizards and witches?" Dudley asked.

"Yes, it's very true. That fact is one of the few the Daily Prophet has reported factually," Dedalus replied. "They're taking the wands of innocent witches and wizards, people who were born magical, and throwing them in Azkaban just because they had the misfortune not to be born to a pure-blood family. It's history repeating itself all over again!"

Dudley was shocked by the comparison. "Are you referring to what happened in World War II to the Jews?" he had asked.

"I am indeed. You-Know-Who and his followers are just like Hitler and his Nazis were fifty years ago. It's as if no one has learned from past mistakes!" Dedalus exclaimed.

"That's not right!" Dudley burst out.

"No, it's not," Dedalus answered, "but it's the truth of what's going on in Ministry politics right now and the reason your cousin is on the run, trying to find a way to right a very big wrong."

"I hope he does," Dudley said. He sat quietly for a while, practicing levitating the biro while he struggled to wrap his mind around his most pressing question.

"So…" Dudley said at last. "Am I really a wizard?"

"You have to tell me, lad," Dedalus said. "Do the things you're doing feel magical to you?"

Again, Dudley pondered the question. At last he nearly whispered, "Yeah, they do. I… I think I'm a Muggle-born wizard."

That had been a couple of months ago and since then, Dudley had been working in secret with Dedalus on controlling his magic. Staying away from his parents wasn't too hard, even though there were five people in the safe house: Petunia and Vernon stayed in their bedroom most of the time with the door locked, coming out only for meals or to use the loo. Their behaviour was such that it seemed to Dudley that his mother was secretly helping him by occupying his father's time. With them avoiding him, Dudley felt free to learn as much as he could from the funny little wizard.

Dedalus was different from any teacher or coach Dudley had ever had. He was kind and infinitely patient and never ridiculed Dudley's failures, even going as far as giving Dudley a wand to practice with until he could get one of his own. Because of some weird notion that the wand hadn't to chosen him, Dedalus encouraged him to focus on the things he was doing accidentally, so that he would learn some control. They started with levitation and things like trying to consciously make a bed. The first few times he intentionally tried levitating an object, it stayed on the floor while other objects flew about the room, bashing against windows and walls and making a horrible racket. The only thing Dedalus did when that happened was to ask Dudley to stop and take a few calming breaths before focusing again on the one object. In time, levitation with a wand became easier and now Dudley was lifting all sorts of objects magically, which made cleaning his room amazingly easy!

Next, they moved on to changing the colour of an object–the subject of today's "lesson"–because he'd begun making spots of colour appear in odd places, both accidentally without the wand and with it.

"This is very advanced magic," Dedalus said as he held up one of Dudley's white school shirts. "The thing is, you're doing it naturally, so we'll work on what feels right to you. Now, think of the colour you want this shirt to be and focus on it. Hopefully, we'll see a bit of colour appear somewhere on it, like you did yesterday."

Dudley closed his eyes and concentrated on turning the shirt his favourite shade of blue. Somewhere inside him, he felt a familiar stirring, reached for it, and then thought, "Turn the shirt blue."

Dedalus' exclamation of "Well done, laddie!" made him open his eyes and smile. He looked up to see the old wizard smiling widely and holding the now peacock blue shirt up for him to see. A grin threatened to split Dudley's face at this accomplishment, but then he looked past his magical friend and into the disapproving eyes of his mother. They stared at each other for a few long seconds before she sniffed audibly and dropped the pile of laundry she had been holding on the floor.

"Oh, no!" Dudley whispered as she disappeared down the hallway. His secret was out.

Petunia had heard voices as she approached Dudley's partially opened door with an armload of clean laundry and thinking nothing of it, she'd pushed it open a tiny bit further so she could see who her son was talking to. The door swung open wider than she'd meant it to, giving her a perfect view of the scene within the room. What met her eyes was a scene out of her nightmares: Dudley was practicing magic–with a wand, no less–and seemed proud to be doing so! In her haste to get away from her son, Petunia dropped Dudley's clothes unceremoniously on the floor and fled to the farthest corner of the property where she stood trembling and crying harder than she had cried in years.

"Oh, Dudders, my precious Dudders!" she wailed. "What have they done to you?"

The tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks. She had tried so hard, so bloody hard, to keep Dudley from doing magic these last few years and it was all for nought: in the presence of multiple witches and wizards in this magical safe house, their concentrated magic had activated Dudley's latent magical tendencies and turned him into a full-fledged wizard, just like her despicable nephew. And because there was no-one else to talk to, Dudley had become entranced by their encouragement and begun practicing magic. Oh, what was she to do? Who could she blame?

The answer came swiftly, just as it always did: Lily, horrible, perfect Lily who could do no wrong because she was a witch and Petunia wasn't! Oh, how she'd wanted to be magical like her little sister! It wasn't fair that Lily had gone off to boarding school, leaving Petunia stuck in Spinner's End. The resentment had set in as soon as the witch who had brought Lily's letter had exited their home. As the years went by, Lily returned home each holiday more beautiful and confident in her abilities. She brought home stories of magical friends, trips into Hogsmeade and eventually, her romance with a popular and handsome wizard that made Petunia's life seem dull by comparison. It had taken years for Petunia to suppress her jealousy and find happiness with Vernon. Later, when Harry had been dumped on their doorstep, the bitter feelings of abandonment by her little sister had come roaring back, making her determined that her precious Dudley would never, ever want to explore the magic Harry's presence had awakened in her son. She and Vernon had been quite successful at convincing Dudley he wasn't magical, even going so far as to punish Harry for any accidental magic done by both boys. In addition they had even managed to intercept Dudley's Hogwarts letter and decline the invitation when it arrived, thus keeping their son completely ignorant of his being a wizard. That is, until the Dementor attack two and a half years ago. Afterwards, after Harry had been taken away, when Dudley had confided in her that he'd actually seen those beasts, Petunia had known all was lost. Still, she had persevered in her campaign to keep Dudley 'normal,' despite the fact that he was obviously affected by the magic within his body.

Sighing, Petunia took out her handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. What frightened her most was Vernon's potential reaction to the news that Dudley was indeed taking after those unnatural people. She loved her husband, but as narrow-minded as he was, he'd never understand why she condoned Dudley spending time with Dedalus and Hestia while still hating the "M-word". She needed a plan, one that would discourage Dudley from practicing magic while at the same time, keep her husband from discovering her son's secret–yes, she knew she could no longer dismiss the inevitable because no matter what she and Vernon did, Dudley would persist in practicing his magic. The latter part of the plan forming in her mind was easy: Vernon refused to interact with their caretakers, preferring to hole himself up in their bedroom for most of the day. The former would be more difficult, especially now that Dudley was so successful at controlling his magical tendencies. She needed to talk to him and determined that there was no time like the present.

"Dudley," she called as soon as she returned to the kitchen, "would you come out here for a moment, please?"

The sound of lumbering footsteps told her Dudley was on his way. "Yeah?" he asked as he headed to the cold cupboard and searched for the Muggle drinks cans Petunia insisted be in stock all the time. "What do you want? I'm rather busy."

Petunia scowled at her son. "Dudley, sit down, please," she ordered as she busied herself with the teapot and kettle.

Startled by her serious tone, Dudley sat down and opened his drink.

"Dudley, dear," Petunia began in what she hoped was a normal tone as she poured water into her teapot, "I was wondering what you and Dedalus were doing upstairs when I brought your laundry."

"Oh… er… we um… we were… oh, bloody hell, Mum, you saw what we were doing. Why are you making me tell you?" Dudley asked, scowling at her over the top of the can.

"Because I want to hear it from you," Petunia said pointedly.

"All right, keep your hair on, Mum. Dedalus was helping me change the colour of my shirt with magic. He's been helping me make things levitate and learn to control my 'accidental magic' as he calls it," Dudley huffed. "We're not doing anything illegal, if that's what you're worried about."

Petunia made a rather big production of bringing her teacup and the pot to the table and pouring her tea. She waited until she'd taken her first sip before she said, "I want you to stop practicing, Dudley. Magic isn't natural and I don't want a freak for a son."

Dudley, who had just taken a large slurp of his fizzy drink, choked and sprayed liquid all over the table. "No! You can't do that to me, Mum!" he gasped in a stricken tone. "I… I'm not… I'm NOT like Harry! I'm NOT a FREAK!"

"Dudley, anyone who does the things you're doing is a freak," Petunia said coldly, even though the horrified expression on her son's face was killing her inside. "I forbid you to associate with Dedalus and Hestia unless your father or I are in the room with the three of you."

"Why are you doing this to me, Mum?" Dudley asked. "Why now? Are you afraid I'll end up as a no-good lay-about like Harry's parents?"

The reference to her long-dead sister took Petunia by surprise and she fought hard to keep the hurt from her expression. "That's exactly what I'm trying to prevent from happening!" she hissed.

"Well, I'm not like them or him! I'm not a freak!" Dudley said forcefully.

"If you practice magic you are doing things your father and I consider unnatural."

"I don't consider doing magic unnatural! Dedalus told me I'm a wizard and I believe him because being a wizard explains so many weird things I've done in the past few years. I like doing magic!"

"Then your father and I disagree with you, Dudley, and if you're going to continue to be part of this family, you will desist from doing any more magic."

"If that's the way you feel about it, then I reckon you don't have a son any more," Dudley said, pushing back from the table. "Dedalus told me that in the Wizarding world I'm considered an adult at seventeen and I've been seventeen since last June. Since you and Dad don't want a freak for a son, I'll go get my things and move into the tack room in the barn." Dudley stood up and left the table.

As he passed her, Petunia reached up and caught hold of Dudley's wrist. He stopped and looked down at her.

"Why do you want to do magic?" she asked.

Dudley sighed dramatically while pulling his wrist from her grasp. "I like leaning magic, Mum. It makes me feel complete. Dedalus helped me understand that accepting being a wizard is part of who I am and why I've felt different since my birthday last year."

Petunia raised an eyebrow. "How have you felt different?" she asked.

"I discovered a part of me I didn't know existed, an energy lurking inside me waiting to be used, something that I now think you and Dad knew about all along and did your best to suppress in me. Then, when Harry turned seventeen and we had to come here because his protections were going to fail, I realized that I'd been an adult wizard for a month and hadn't known it. I like what I can do with this energy and nothing you and Dad do will make me give it up." Dudley took a few steps towards the door.

"What are you going to do now?" Petunia asked, not looking at her son.

Dudley's footsteps stopped. "I'm going to keep on with my lessons with Dedalus until Harry's done with whatever he's doing out there. I'll stay away from you and Dad as much as I can," he said, sounding discouraged and sad.

"Good," Petunia said, picking up her cup and taking a small sip. "See that you've vacated your room by dinner. I still expect you at the dinner table one last time because you need to explain that you're no longer willing to follow our family's rules to your father."

Dudley didn't respond, but trudged out of the kitchen as two fat tears rolled silently down Petunia's cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away.

**July 1998**

The Dursley family drove back to Privet Drive in the dead of night and quietly moved back into their house in almost a reprise of how they had left it a year previously. Petunia was dreading the state of her house as Vernon's car pulled into the drive and Dudley clambered out and walked back to open the boot. He grabbed the three suitcases and set his parents' on the ground. He disappeared into the house as soon as Dedalus pronounced the place safe.

Petunia sighed. The last seven months had been very difficult. Although Dudley had been grudgingly accepted back into the family by his father, there was still a great deal of tension between the three of them due to Dudley's continued study of magic. She wondered how long it would take before they felt like a family again, if ever…

The next morning, Petunia was up with the sun, her cleaning things at her side as she wandered from room to room making note of what needed to be dusted, polished and vacuumed. Last night, they had found the back door unlocked and evidence that people had been inside the house. Surprisingly, the only thing in the house she'd found broken had been an old wind-up alarm clock of Vernon's that had somehow found its way under their bed. It made her wonder if someone had come in a day or two ago to "tidy" broken furniture and china just so the house would look just as she'd left it.

Now she was in her element as she prepared to make war on the dust that had accumulated all year. Her first priority was the kitchen because Vernon and Dudley would be up soon and in need of a hearty breakfast; she couldn't possibly cook a meal in a dirty kitchen. With that in mind, she donned her rubber gloves and began wiping down every kitchen surface she could reach.

"Morning, Mum," Dudley yawn, wandering into the kitchen some two hours later. He flopped down onto his chair at the table still looking quite sleepy.

Petunia pushed the refrigerator back into place, having moved it to mop the floor underneath. "Breakfast, Dudley?" she asked.

"I'll get it," he replied, standing up and wandering over to the cooker. He took out a frying pan and placed it on a burner, then waited until she was clear of the refrigerator to take out eggs, butter, bacon and milk–Petunia had found the appliance stocked with the basics last night and had mentioned it to Vernon and Dudley at the time. Taking everything to the worktop, he began preparing breakfast.

Petunia stood rooted to the floor and just stared at her son. "When did you learn to cook?" she asked in a small voice.

"I had to eat something while I was living in the tack room," Dudley replied. "Do you want me to make enough for Dad or will you make his breakfast?" he added as he melted butter in the pan and then broke three eggs into the fat.

"I'll… I'll wait to eat with your father," Petunia said quietly, and picked up her cleaning supplies to take them into the dining room where she kept a sharp ear out for signs of culinary distress while she took all of the china out of the bureau in order to dust it thoroughly. When she next peeked into the kitchen, Dudley was stabbing toast soldiers into the yolks of his eggs, a thunderous expression on his face.

Several hours later, Petunia climbed the stairs to begin working on the bedrooms and the bathroom. As she passed Dudley's room, she suddenly had the urge to poke her head inside and see how he was faring with his own cleaning. The sight that greeted her eyes riveted her to the floor, hoping that her son wasn't aware of her presence. Apparently, he wasn't because as she watched, he stood in the middle of his room with a look of concentration on his face and before she could move her feet, the dust covering most surfaces and the floor coalesced into a dense ball which suddenly disappeared with a small _pop!_ He then opened his suitcase and stepping away from it, murmured, "Unpack." It was as if a line of invisible people walked past the suitcase, selected a garment and then took it to the wardrobe or the bureau and gently placed the item inside. With shaking hands, Petunia turned away from Dudley's room to attack the germs in the bathroom with renewed vengeance.

Two days later, Petunia walked into the lounge where Dudley was watching a programme.

"Hey, Mum, can you hand me the remote?" he asked without looking up at her. "I'll switch channels for you."

"Just a moment, Dudley," she said. "I need to put down our lunch."

Dudley glanced over at her. "Oh, no need, then Mum," he said and casually lifted his right hand off the arm of his chair as if to beckon something to him, and revealing the wand taped to his forearm. The remote, which had been on the mantelpiece, zoomed into his hand and he casually switched channels to her favourite daytime drama.

Shocked, Petunia nearly threw his lunch at him and retreated to the kitchen where she set her own lunch on the table and sat staring into space, wondering what she was going to do with her son's blatant refusal to act like a "normal" person while her tea grew cold and the bread on her sandwich began to dry out.

Everything came to a head at the end of their first week home together while the three of them sat in the lounge after dinner. Just before the late news came on the telly, Dudley stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Vernon was snoring in his usual place on the sofa when Dudley reappeared clutching a fizzy drinks can and a large bag of crisps and floating a plate of cheese and crackers before him.

"Dudley," Petunia hissed, hoping to catch her son's attention. "Two hands. Your father. You _promised!_"

Dudley glared at her and returned to his seat next to Vernon, still levitating the plate. Petunia frantically swept her gaze between the plate, the wand tucked under Dudley's armpit, and her sleeping husband as Dudley's snack descended through the air to land with a gentle clatter on the coffee table. The sound woke Vernon. Dudley dropped his wand between the sofa cushion and the armrest.

"Dudley," Vernon asked, "were you _floating_ that plate or carrying it?"

Petunia watched in horrified fascination as Dudley answered his father. "Floated," he answered, glancing guiltily at his mother.

Vernon's reaction was instantaneous. His beefy fist shot across the distance between them and connected with Dudley's face, catching his son squarely in the jaw. Then, he hauled himself to his feet and stood towering over Dudley.

Tears of surprise appeared in Dudley's eyes as he reached up to touch the place where his father's fist had connected with his face. "What did you do that for?" he asked.

Vernon bent over as far as his immense belly would allow, his anger tinting his face purple. "DON'T YOU EVER SHOW THAT UNNATURALNESS IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN!" he thundered, raising his fist to strike Dudley again.

"Vernon! STOP!" Petunia cried, finally finding her voice. She hurried over and sat down next to Dudley. "Let me see, Diddykins," she coaxed.

"No, Mum. This is between him and me. Get away before he hurts you," Dudley said, not taking his eyes off his father's purple face.

As Petunia shrank from her son's rejection, he hauled himself to his feet and stood facing his father, his fists balled in a fighting position. Vernon took a step back, putting the coffee table between them. Dudley followed. So did Petunia, who in a sudden spurt of bravery, put herself between the two men.

"Stop this, both of you!" she cried, trying to get their attention. It worked, but not how she anticipated; Vernon's meaty fist flew in her direction and landed in her stomach. Petunia staggered backwards, clutching her abdomen and gasping for breath as both Dudley and Vernon dropped their fists and came to her assistance.

"Petunia, darling, I'm sorry," Vernon said, looking worried.

Petunia glared at him. "How dare you punch me! How dare you raise your fists to Dudley! This is a house, not a boxing ring!" she ranted between gasps. "You'll be spending the night on the sofa, Vernon." And as soon as she could straighten up, she beckoned to Dudley and headed upstairs, leaving a very surprised-looking Vernon standing in the lounge.

"Mum, are you all right?" Dudley asked as they reached the top of the stairs.

Petunia turned to him. "I think so, Dudley. Let's go to bed. Maybe we can talk this through without resorting to fisticuffs in the morning," she told him. Dudley nodded and disappeared behind his locked door. Petunia turned the lock on her own door and readied herself for bed.

Dudley awoke with a start, wondering what had brought him out of his troubled sleep. The sound came again, this time accompanied by a jarring of his bedroom floor. Curious, Dudley rolled out of bed and went to open his door. That's when he heard his father shouting from the bottom of the stairs:

"Boy! Get down here! You have work to do!"

_Huh? Harry isn't here_, Dudley thought, puzzled. He shrugged and went back to bed. Five minutes later, his door banged open, revealing his father silhouetted against the hall light.

"Boy! When I tell you to do something that means you do it!" his father bellowed, advancing into the room. "You have two minutes to get dressed and get downstairs to make my breakfast. I will be leaving for work in half an hour! Now MOVE! And if I catch you doing anything unnatural, you'll be sorry!"

He turned abruptly and left the room. Dudley could only stare at his retreating back.

Downstairs, he found his father fully dressed, ready for work and sitting at the table, buried in the morning paper. He looked at Dudley over the top of it as he spat, "Make me three eggs, scrambled, four sausages and toast. And no hocus-pocus to make it cook faster. You hear?"

"Yes, Dad."

Ten minutes later, Dudley set two plates of scrambled eggs, sausage and toast on the table and poured two cups of tea from the family pot. His father pulled his dishes behind his newspaper and began to eat, ignoring Dudley completely. Shrugging, Dudley addressed his own meal.

His mother entered the kitchen just as Dad was finishing. She nodded curtly to him and came over to the table. "Family meeting tonight at dinner?" she asked as she sat down.

Dad shook his head. "There's no need for one. I've made myself clear. There will be no unnaturalness in this house and if Dudley doesn't want to abide by that rule, then he can leave," he said menacingly. "As it stands, I expect everything on this list to be completed by the time I get home. Maybe some physical work will remind Dudley that he is part of this family and not your long-dead sister's."

Mum gasped, a look of horrified hurt on her face, as Dad threw a list onto Dudley's empty plate and stalked out of the kitchen.

Dudley followed his father's retreating back with his eyes as he picked up the list. It turned out to be almost the same as one of Harry's old chore lists from several years ago: weed and mulch the flowerbeds, wash all the downstairs windows, sweep the garden path, mow both lawns. There were several other items on the list and for the first time ever, Dudley wondered how Harry had ever completed his chores before midnight!

"I'm not Harry!" he muttered as he went out to the garden shed to fetch the mower.

The rest of the week was quite similar to that first morning and even though his father had forbidden him from doing magic, he still found time to practice. He couldn't make the mower run itself, but the day he had to wash the first floor windows, he did levitate his bucket of cleaning supplies to the top of the ladder. Of course, Mrs Number Six saw him do it and made a point of telling Dudley's father what she'd seen, which resulted in Dudley spending the evening confined to his room without dinner. Needless to say, Dudley fumed and paced his room until he went to bed.

The next day was Saturday and by then, Dudley had had enough, especially when he was awakened at half past five by his father and told to make breakfast before going out to wash his dad's car.

"No, I won't!" Dudley declared while looking his father in the eye, for indeed the two were the same height and nearly the same build. "I'm eighteen and of age, so you can't make me do those stupid chores."

"If you want to live in this house, you will," his dad blustered. "I'll not have an unnatural lay-about sponging off my hard earned wages, just because he's turned eighteen! Now get outside and wash my car!"

"No, Dad! You can't make me, not like you made Harry do all those things just because you were trying to punish him for being a wizard," Dudley retorted. He grabbed his hoodie from its peg beside the front door. "I'll be back later."

"Where are you going?" Mum asked as he opened the door.

"Out," Dudley replied curtly. "I'll be back in time for lunch." He slammed the door and walked down the garden path and onto Privet Drive, headed vaguely in the direction of the park.

The next few weeks fell into a similar pattern to this first one. With Vernon off to work on weekdays, Petunia helped Dudley with his list of chores while keeping an eye on her son to make sure the neighbours didn't catch him using his wand to levitate anything or cause things to operate themselves. Still, if they finished the list faster than anticipated, Dudley would retreat to his room and she would hear things up there that indicated to her that her son was still trying to practice his magic. She even tried to intercept several owls that had begun hanging about Dudley's bedroom window, just as Harry's owl had done in years past. This worried Petunia immensely and as much as she didn't want to do so, she finally determined that the only way to save her son from being thrown out of the house by his father and to preserve peace in her home, was to write a letter to her nephew asking for his help.

It was with a heavy heart that she walked to the corner post-box to mail her envelope to the address Hestia Jones had given her–one she'd sworn never to use–that would send her letter to a London owl post office. How long would it take for the owl to find her nephew? Petunia didn't know the answer to that question. Would he write back to her? She didn't know if he would and, if she was honest with herself, she was doubtful he would agree to help her help Dudley. Even so, she hoped Harry would respond…


	2. Chapter 2: The Problem

**Chapter 2: The Problem**

**August 1998**

"Done!" Harry cried triumphantly as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. The newly installed strike plate he'd been screwing into a doorjamb gleamed in the light of his lit wand. It looked good and as he reached over to close the door with a soft click to test the placement, Ginny came up the stairs, smiling broadly.

"The last one?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Thank Merlin! You've been at this job for forever!"

Harry chuckled and tossed his screwdriver next to his chisels in his Muggle toolbox. "Fifty-two doors is a lot of doors," he commented dryly.

"You're right, but the new knobs look so much better than the silver snake-shaped ones that were here before," Ginny commented. "The brass makes even this dark hallway a bit brighter, Harry."

"No, the new paint and wallpaper we've put up is what's made the difference, love," he responded. "I'd say between you, me and Kreacher, Grimmauld Place is finally looking liveable."

"It is," Ginny agreed, holding out her hand. "Now come down and have some lunch. I made Kreacher wait to serve until you were done with your project."

Harry picked up his toolbox and followed his girlfriend down several flights of stairs. As they went, he couldn't help admiring the work they'd done in the weeks since his return to London after the Battle of Hogwarts. Because he needed a place to live, due to his declining Mrs Weasley's invitation to reside at the Burrow indefinitely–the absence of Fred made it difficult to move on–Harry had decided to renovate Sirius' house and not just clean it. He had enlisted Hermione, Ron and Ginny's help, with Ginny and Kreacher pitching in more than the other two because, Hermione had confessed one evening, it would be Ginny who would eventually live here with Harry. Kreacher knew some tricks for eradicating the boggarts, doxies and other vermin that even Mrs Weasley didn't know, so it took only a day or two to decontaminate the place using magic. Then the hard work of scrubbing and prepping for painting and wallpapering had commenced.

Eventually, Harry and Ginny had agreed on a colour scheme–Gryffindor red and gold, of course–and they had spent a few days purchasing paint, new fixtures and wallpaper for nearly the entire house. In the last two weeks, Kreacher had helped them transform the house into a place all three of them felt at home in. There was only one room which Harry would never change: Regulus Black's bedroom because of Regulus' role in defeating Voldemort for good. Harry had given the room to Kreacher as his special place, which pleased the old elf almost as much as the gift of the locket had done.

They reached the entrance hall and noisily clattered onto the gleaming parquet floor and Harry revelled in the silence which greeted the noise they were making. In a stroke of genius and luck, Hermione had come across a spell which weakened the Permanent Sticking Charm holding up Sirius' mum's painting and after only two applications of the spell, the painting fell to the floor with an almighty thud, Mrs Black screeching her demented last. Next on Harry's priority list had been the Black family tapestry. Hermione's spell had worked well on it, too, and Kreacher had requested it be shrunk and put in Regulus' room. Harry was quite happy to accommodate him. The lounge was now bright with cream coloured wallpaper, red and gold floral curtains at the windows and new upholstery in shades of red and gold on the antique chairs and sofas. Ginny led Harry through this room to the dining room, which had been similarly decorated.

"Master, I will serve luncheon now," Kreacher croaked as the two entered.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry and Ginny murmured together. They giggled and sat down at the table.

"What's next on your to-do list for today?" Ginny asked as Kreacher took away their sandwich plates and brought them chocolate mousse for afters.

Harry took a sip of his butterbeer, thinking carefully. "I think it's time to start redecorating Sirius' old room," he said finally. "As much as I like looking at his bikini babes, they're not you, so they need to go."

Ginny's face had gone Weasley red at his comment. "Do you want to take everything off the walls, including the grey silk?" she asked. "And do you think you'll want to keep the bike pictures and Gryffindor banners?"

"Let's take down the bikes and banners and save them," Harry said. He frowned, then continued thoughtfully, "Actually, I like the silver-grey silk," he admitted. "If we did it right, I think it would complement the Gryffindor colours we've chosen. What do you think, Ginny?"

She didn't have a chance to answer because Kreacher popped into the room holding a letter on a silver salver. "Master," he croaked, "you've had an owl."

"Thank you, Kreacher. Did the bird leave?" Harry asked, taking the envelope.

"Yes, it did not wait for an answer," Kreacher said, and bowing deeply, he left the dining room.

"Who's it from?" Ginny asked as Harry examined the letter carefully.

Harry didn't answer right away, he was too busy studying the envelope, which was constructed of modern Muggle paper and addressed simply to _Harry Potter Esq._ There was no mention of where he might be found and because he recognized his aunt's handwriting, Harry wondered why she was contacting him.

"Why would my aunt want to write to me now? What does she want?" he mumbled, making Ginny's eyebrows elevate. He opened the letter carefully and began to read.

_Harry,_

This is a very difficult letter for me to write, but the time has come for me to admit that Vernon and I were wrong about quite a few things, one of which was trying to keep magic out of our home. You see, it was part of my family even before you were left with us because Dudley is his Aunt Lily's nephew; he was born a wizard just as you were and Vernon and I knew it before Dudley was even a year old. The signs were all there, since his toys never stayed where we put them at bedtime and he could open the sweeties tin from halfway across the room when we weren't looking. When you entered our family, the problem was more than I could handle on my own and rather than have the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad appear at our doorstep three times a week, Vernon and I decided magic didn't belong in our home at all.

I know I was wrong for indulging Dudley and mistreating you the way I did and I won't blame you if you refuse to help me with my problem. You see, in the last few years, since the Dementor attack back in 1995 actually, Dudley has begun experimenting with magic and while we were in hiding, he began refining his skills. He can now do simple spells using a wand Dedalus Diggle gave him and he wants to learn more. The problem with this is that he is still living with Vernon and me and Vernon is still very much the man he was when you were living with us: he doesn't understand magic, doesn't want to learn about it and is just as adamant about it not being in his house as he was when you were with us.

Harry, I'm desperate to help Dudley. He needs to know more about magic than Dedalus was able to teach him and you are the only magical person I can trust to know who I can contact to arrange magic lessons for him. I am free this coming Friday for lunch. You can name the restaurant. Vernon is out of town on business until late Friday evening, so I will have all afternoon to speak with you.

Aunt Petunia

P. S. Please bring a guest if you wish.

The letter dropped from Harry's slack fingers as he stared unseeingly down the table.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny asked repeatedly.

It took him a moment to respond. "After… after all these years," he nearly whispered, "she's admitted she treated me wrongly." He paused and then added, "Dudley's a _wizard!"_

Ginny grabbed up the letter exclaiming, "Let me see that! I don't believe it!" Her eyes zoomed across Aunt Petunia's cramped handwriting. "Merlin! You're right! What are you going to do?"

Harry took a steadying breath. "I'm not meeting her," he said flatly. "She can deal with Dudley on her own."

"Harry, I think you should," Ginny said, smoothing the letter out on the table before her. "She said she trusts you to know what to do. It's not as if she's asking you to teach Dudley what you know."

"Fine, she trusts me," Harry said hollowly. His voice grew bitter as he added, "I think it's a bit late for her to expect me to do anything for her or her precious Dudders after the way she treated me when I was growing up."

Ginny sighed. "I know she hurt you on so many levels, Harry, but she is your mother's sister. She's the only true family you have left on your mother's side. As much as you don't like her, family is important, it's important to know you have someone who knew your mother, who knows stories about her that she just might be willing to share with you if you give her something in return."

"I don't want to have anything to do with her!" Harry exclaimed irritably, but as he shoved his chair back and stood up to pace the dining room, he knew it wasn't true. Something inside him was urging him to put aside his anger and focus on the fact that maybe his aunt was sincere and really did need his help. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Ginny's argument about Petunia being his last family link to his mother had some merit to it.

By the time he came back around the table, Ginny was on her feet and waiting for him with her arms outstretched. He walked into her embrace asking, "How did you get so wise?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. I just said what I felt was right," she said.

Harry bent down and kissed her gently. When they broke apart, he sighed and said, "I think I have a letter to write."

Ginny smiled up at him. "What restaurant shall we go to?"

Harry thought about this and then suggested, "How about the Golden Arrow near King's Cross Station? Uncle Vernon wouldn't be caught dead there even though it's quite a posh restaurant." He held up a hand and ticked off each point on a finger. His smile grew with each point. "One, it's a hotel restaurant. Uncle Vernon avoids hotel restaurants. Two, the food is expensive, the wine even more so. Three, the food is publicised as 'international,' which he translates to 'foreign' in his book. Four, if we take her there, she'll be rather intimidated and maybe not as dreadful as she can be. I'd say the two of us plan to put on our smart Muggle clothes and prepare to play my aunt's game of who can outsmart the other. Do you think your mum will let me take you to lunch?"

Ginny stepped back and gave him a little push towards the door. "I think she will," she said. Then, just as Harry reached the door, she added, "But Harry, I know I don't have anything appropriate to wear."

Harry grinned. "Neither do I. Looks like a shopping trip is in order. Can you be here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"If you're taking me shopping, I'll get here any time you want!" Ginny giggled.

Petunia Dursley arrived in the hotel lobby nearly a half hour before she was to meet Harry and his friend. He had said he was bringing someone, but not the person's gender, so Petunia could only hope the person would not be too badly dressed. She herself was wearing her best, smartest dress–a dark blue raw silk with a matching jacket that she had purchased for one of Vernon's company parties two years ago–but for some reason, she still felt a bit underdressed. No, that wasn't right, she felt… out of season. Maybe once they were in the restaurant she would feel less out of place.

At last she spotted two young people entering the main doors of the hotel. She stood hopefully, but just as abruptly, sat back down again for the couple, although young, was so much better dressed than she ever thought her nephew and a woman of his kind ever would be. She watched as the couple exchanged a glance and then headed straight for her. She remained seated, only because she was too shocked to stand up again.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, his voice sounding much deeper than she remembered it.

Petunia could only stare at him. The suit he was wearing was so understated and fit so well that she knew it could only be Burberry or Versace. His hair was neatly trimmed and combed, his tie was knotted correctly, and his shoes were every bit as expensive as the suit. She tried very hard, but could not find anything to criticize. Clearing her throat, Petunia managed a stiff, "Thank you for coming, Harry," before turning her eyes on the girl at his elbow.

Harry seemed to have followed her gaze for he now said, "May I present Miss Ginny Weasley, a friend of mine from school."

"Mrs Dursley, it's my pleasure," Miss Weasley said, her smile pleasant.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Miss Weasley," Petunia said. She let her eyes slide over Harry's companion. Again, she could find no fault in the girl's appearance, for her dark teal dress with its short sleeves, conservative neckline and flared skirt accentuated her figure without being vulgar, and gave no hint of anything unnatural. Ginny wore sheer tights and dainty black cocktail shoes to complete her ensemble and Petunia found herself growing a little envious of such perfection, especially since it wasn't at all obvious that the girl was a witch.

"Are you ready to eat, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, his question jarring Petunia out of her inspection.

"Oh, yes, quite," she murmured.

Harry turned and gestured towards the corridor leading to the Golden Arrow restaurant.

Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief that he and Ginny had passed inspection. Already, the trip to Harrods, and Marks & Spencer had paid off just because his aunt couldn't seem to find anything to criticize about their appearance. Yesterday's shopping trip had been fun, if expensive, and he already knew he would be wearing his suit again soon, since he preferred it to dress robes any day!

The maître d' led them to a table in the middle of the restaurant and after they were seated, he leaned closer to his aunt and said, "Please order anything you want, Aunt Petunia. You are our guest."

She stared at him. "Thank you, Harry," she murmured, sounding surprised, and returned to her perusal of the menu.

Harry waited until their appetizers had been served to ask, "Did you get settled back in your home without any problems?"

Petunia sipped her wine before answering. "It was almost as if we'd never left. A little dusty, yes, but other than that it was nice to come home to an intact house. I was afraid we wouldn't."

Harry, who had been inside three days before his relatives had been allowed to go back, knew just how much magic had gone into making number four presentable. The Death Eaters had had a field day wreaking havoc and what wasn't too heavy to turn over had been smashed with curses or defaced in some way. It had required all of Harry's concentration to make sure everything looked as it should, even though Kingsley had sent several repair-wizards from Magical Maintenance to help with the clean-up.

"I'm glad you found it satisfactory," he said. "And how are Uncle Vernon and Dudley?"

This seemed to be the opening Petunia had been waiting for. She took a rather deep breath and began her tale. She concluded with, "And now, Dudley's decided he wants to take a gap year, since he has finished his exams, to pursue studying m-magic." The last word was spoken in barely a whisper. "Harry, I don't know what to do to help him. Can you and Miss Weasley suggest something?"

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ginny who then turned to Aunt Petunia. "Actually, Mrs Dursley, I think he has the right idea taking the gap year. Where will he be going on his holiday? Has he lined up a job yet? Our friend, Hermione, has been talking about taking a gap year next year to go to Australia where she sent her parents last year," she said conversationally as their entrees arrived. "She wants to finish school first, though."

Aunt Petunia sputtered, "Your… your friend is normal? I always thought she was one of your kind from what I've heard Harry say over the years." Harry scowled at that.

"Of course she's normal," Ginny stated, "but instead of speaking of how _para_normal she is, you asked how we could help Dudley."

"I did," Aunt Petunia said. Then, looking between Harry and Ginny, she asked, "Will you teach him?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't, Aunt Petunia. I'm going to start the… erm… police academy in September when Ginny and Hermione return to school," he said, suddenly aware of where they were. "I'm to take an accelerated course because of the need for paranormal inspectors after what happened in May."

His aunt seemed to deflate when she realized he couldn't take the time to help his cousin. She finished her salad and laid her fork across her plate, which was promptly removed by their waiter. She sighed. "Thank you for being honest, Harry," she said. "I'll start looking for another way to help Dudley."

Across the table, Ginny was frowning. "Mrs Dursley, Harry didn't say that he wouldn't help Dudley, he was just telling you why he himself can't," she said.

"I apologize," Aunt Petunia said hastily.

"There are other ways he can, we can help," Ginny continued, "and I have a thought, but you'll need to approve it."

Aunt Petunia looked interested. "What do you have in mind?"

"We'd like to introduce him to some of our friends," Harry said. "We know several people who won't be going back to the school this year because of what happened last year, but they still want to qualify and are studying for their own exams. Teaching someone else what they're revising is a very good way to learn the material thoroughly."

"You'd actually want your cousin to meet your friends?" asked Aunt Petunia.

"Why not? Although it might mean that some of them would actually walk up your garden path and have Dudley invite them into the house. Would you and Uncle Vernon have any objections to that?"

"Actually, no, Harry," said Aunt Petunia with a sigh. "As much as I don't want to admit it, I left Vernon last night, although he has yet to come home to find my note. Dudley came with me because he doesn't like his father's attitude. He realizes that if he stays at home, he'll have to stop learning and that's the last thing he wants to do at the moment."

"Where are you living now?" Ginny asked, looking concerned.

"At the moment, we're staying at Mrs Figg's until I can find us a place to live. She's happy to shelter us for the time being and I'm grateful to her for it," Aunt Petunia said. "So, as much as I loath the idea of what Dudley is, I know he won't be happy until he has learned more. And as a mother, I want my child to be happy, and right now, with his father being rather aggressive towards him, Dudley isn't happy. So…" She broke off with a tiny sob and searched in her handbag for her handkerchief. "So your friends coming to visit won't be a problem."

Ginny took Harry's hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. "That's good, Mrs Dursley," she said. "We were hoping to introduce the girls to Dudley in the next few days because term for me starts on first September and two of them are my friends. Can we come round at ten tomorrow morning?"

Aunt Petunia raised her eyebrows. "You mean they're girls? I thought you'd contact your male friends seeing as your cousin is male," she hissed, looking scandalized.

Harry frowned and resisted the urge to leave the table. "Aunt Petunia, you're objecting to our friends because they're women?" he asked incredulously. "Are you afraid Dudley will fancy one of them and will want to go out with her?"

His aunt's face turned a delicate shade of pink. "The thought has crossed my mind, Harry," she murmured. "I'm sure there aren't any girls good enough for my Dudley."

"I think it might be the other way round, Mrs Dursley," Ginny told her quietly. "These girls are the best there is. They fought valiantly last May, just as fiercely as our male friends did, and two of them are still recovering from their injuries. None of the wizards we know from school are available because they either died in the fighting or are needed to rebuild the Ministry, Hogwarts and other parts of our social infrastructure. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

Aunt Petunia sighed. "Thank you for being honest with me, Miss Weasley," she said. "You must think me an overprotective mother. Unfortunately, you are correct and I know I must adjust my attitude; various feelings have been with me for many years and they're hard to resist. I know you two are doing your best to help me, so thank you. Would your friends be able to come for lunch tomorrow at noon? I don't think Mrs Figg will object to having a few more guests at her table."

Harry smiled. "We'll contact our friends as soon as we get back to Ginny's house," he said. He laid down his fork as did his companions. Almost immediately, their waiter took them away and handed out dessert menus and tea. They ordered and spent the remainder of the meal discussing other things.

Finally, Harry pushed back from the table and laid his crumpled napkin next to his plate. "It's been nice having lunch with you, Aunt Petunia," he said, genuinely surprised that he felt this way.

His aunt raised an eyebrow. "Do you really mean that, Harry, or are you just saying it to be polite?" she asked.

"I mean it," he admitted. "I just wish we could have been this civil to each other while I was growing up."

Aunt Petunia nodded sadly. "Maybe it's because we're not living together any more that we can speak properly to each other now," she said. "You seem to be your own man now, Harry, and perhaps living apart has helped us, too."

"It could be many things, Mrs Dursley," Ginny added, "that are all adding up to the fact that the two of you are looking for ways to help Dudley."

"I agree," Aunt Petunia said, rising. "I must go."

Harry stood up, too. "May I walk you to the hotel door?" he asked, offering his aunt his arm.

She smiled and as they left the table, Harry mouthed to Ginny, "Be back soon, love."


	3. Chapter 3: The Solution

**Chapter 3: The Solution**

The one thing Dudley Dursley had never fully become used to during his stay with Hestia and Dedalus was the fact that people in the Wizarding world communicated and travelled via their fireplaces. It felt very strange to him to be standing near Mrs Figg's fireplace waiting for his guests instead of the front door, but Harry had said last night that it was easier for everyone to come to his house rather than venture into a Muggle neighbourhood on their own. So here he was, a hand shoved deep in his pocket, nervously clutching his wand. It felt good to hold it, even if he did not have an inkling of what to do with it if he had to defend himself. He smiled at the ridiculous notion that he could hurt someone by levitating them or changing the colour of their clothing.

The flames in the grate suddenly turned bright green. Dudley jumped back a few feet as first Harry and then his girlfriend, Ginny, strode out and made room for three more people, two of whom came together. The reason for this was soon apparent for the girl clutching the other held a pair of crutches and only had one foot sticking out from under her long skirt. Dudley tried hard not to stare at her.

"Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Mrs Figg, these are Morag MacDougal, Sally-Ann Perks and Vicky Frobisher," Harry said, indicating each of the new people with his hand as he spoke. "Ladies, please meet my aunt, Petunia Dursley, my cousin, Dudley Dursley, and Mrs Figg, our hostess."

"Welcome, everyone," Mrs Figg said as everyone murmured variations of "how do you do?" "Please come to the lounge. I have set out a light lunch in there."

When everyone was settled and had a cup of tea, Mum said, "I'm not sure what Harry has told you about my son, but Dudley has recently decided that he is an untrained wizard. I'll let him tell you what he has been experimenting with in a moment. What the three of you are here for today is for us to choose one of you to be his tutor. I realize none of you have a curriculum vitae to show me–" She broke off as Vicky Frobisher and the other two witches handed her pieces of parchment.

Morag said pointedly, "Mrs Dursley, the three of us are seeking employment, which means that we are prepared to present ourselves in a fitting manner for interview. That means all three of us brought our CVs for you to look over. Also, if you are to employ one of us, we will need to have a working relationship with Dudley and _you_. That means you will need to speak us without condescension. All of us have passed our N.E.W.T.s with either Outstanding or Exceeds Expectations marks and are fully qualified witches. If you have a problem with the fact that we are witches, then today's visit has been a waste of our time."

"I am sorry, Miss MacDougal," Mum said stiffly and Dudley knew she was making an effort to be civil. "I realize that if Dudley is to succeed you will need to communicate with me from time to time and that my attitude has a significant part in the success of the enterprise."

Silence settled over the group and for a moment, nobody said anything.

Dudley finally broke the silence, "Mum wants me to show you what I can do, but I'll just tell you instead." He cleared his throat. "I can levitate things like pens and plates just by thinking about making them float. I can make a bed make itself. I can also change the colour of objects. Mr Diggle, Dedalus, said I was doing accidental magic and that there were commands to deliberately make my magic work. I really want to learn those commands."

"We can teach you the incantations for both of those spells, Dudley," Vicky said. "But if you really want to join the Wizarding world, you'll need to know more than just spells. Living with magic is a culture unto itself because our history, while it parallels Muggle history, is unique because it encompasses the histories of other beings. Wizards also have their own currency, medicines and leisure activities and because Muggle electronic devices don't work in magical places, many of us have never been to the cinema, cooked with a microwave or toaster, or entertained ourselves by watching the telly. Could you, in all honesty, give up things like your microwave or your telly?"

Dudley gulped. "Is this an all or nothing sort of thing or have people managed to live as a combination of wizard and Muggle?"

"It can be done," Sally-Ann said. "Wizards do live in Muggle houses and use Muggle appliances. They just have to be careful about how much magic they use and how powerful their spells are. Some Muggle-borns I know have been successful at enchanting electronics like televisions to work in magical houses, but the reception is often limited or unsatisfactory."

"So do you think you could assimilate into our culture?" Vicky asked.

"I'd like to give it a go," Dudley said determinedly. "I did just spend a year without the telly or my computer and it wasn't too bad, so yeah, I think I could."

"We do have the Wizarding Wireless Network," Morag said. "Its programs are a bit old-fashioned, but all the Quidditch matches are broadcast each week and there are music and news stations that play a variety of music and keep us up-to-date with what's happening in the world."

"We had a wireless at the safe house and Dedalus used to listen to the news programs," Dudley said, looking straight at Morag. "I liked the Weird Sisters' music. Do you?"

She smiled at him. "Oh, yes. They're a great group."

Mum cleared her throat. "Dudley, this isn't a social hour. I would like to continue the interview."

"Yes, Mum," Dudley said, feeling chastised. He really wanted to learn more about Morag. "I'd like to ask Morag one more question."

Mum sighed, sounding impatient. "If you must, Popkin." Dudley glared at his mother and she looked away quickly.

"I realize this has nothing to do with you being my possible tutor," he said, addressing Morag, "but what happened to your leg?"

Morag looked almost relieved to have the subject out in the open. "An Acromantula, a huge spider, attacked me during the Battle of Hogwarts. I managed to Stun it and was able to escape to safety. The damage was so extensive that Madam Pomfrey had to amputate just below the knee. I'm still in rehab, both magical and Muggle, but felt that doing some tutoring would get me back into the world a bit sooner."

"What subjects did you pass?" Dudley asked, now able to look Morag in the eyes.

She rattled off her list of qualifications before asking, "Dudley, I was told this house is a temporary home for the two of you. Do you know enough about the magical world to get to and from places without resorting to Muggle means?"

Dudley felt his face heat up. "No," he replied uncomfortably. "I don't even know how to drive a car. Why do you ask?"

"My condition and your inability to travel magically may be a problem because traveling is quite difficult for me at the moment," said Morag. "I don't travel well because of my crutches, which would mean that you would need to come to Manchester for your lessons with me."

"Do you mean to tell me that you're unwilling to go to your place of employment?" Mum asked, sounding incredulous. Out of the corner of his eye, Dudley caught Harry and Ginny exchanging knowing glances.

"Yes, Mrs Dursley," Morag stated. "It's because I am still recovering from my injury. There will probably be times when I may have to cancel lessons at the last minute because of it."

"I see," Mum said, sliding Morag's CV to the bottom of the pile, summarily dismissing her as someone she wanted to work with. Dudley had seen her do this to other people and threw a sympathetic glance at Morag. Surprisingly, Morag smiled at him and shrugged as if to say, 'I didn't think she'd like that idea." Dudley smiled back at her.

"Mrs Dursley, what are you prepared to pay per hour to have Dudley tutored? I mean, he seems to be the equivalent of a beginning first year," Vicky Frobisher asked, sounding a bit aloof.

"Minimum wage," Mum answered quickly.

"Is that in pounds or Galleons?"

"Is there a difference?"

"A big one. The goblins' exchange rate is £5 to the Galleon. If you're only going to pay £2.50 an hour–which isn't even the minimum for eighteen- to twenty-year-olds–it translates to eight Sickles and fourteen Knuts. That's much less than I want to work for, Mrs Dursley, considering how much preparation will need to go into making up Dudley's lessons."

As his mother sniffed an "I see," Dudley decided he didn't like Vicky at all. She reminded him of his least favourite teacher at Smeltings who had no patience for students who weren't mathematically inclined like he was.

He leaned over to his mum and gently tugged Sally-Ann's CV out of her hand. He scanned the page until he found what he sought. "Sally-Ann, can I call you Sally?" he asked, looking at her. When she nodded, he said, "Sally, you list two Wizarding schools on here. Why did you switch?"

Sally said, "My parents fled Britain because my father is a wizard and my mother a Muggle. They were afraid the Death Eaters would target our family because of my mother, so he applied for a job in France and we moved half-way through my fourth year at Hogwarts." She looked at Harry as she said, "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you win the Triwizard Tournament, Harry. You flew so well in the first task and saved Fleur Delacour's sister in the second that I wished I had been there for the third."

Harry looked sad as he said, "No, you don't. It wasn't much fun for anyone when I brought back the news of Voldemort's return."

"You're wrong, Harry," Sally said. "I heard about the DA and what you and my friends went through in sixth and seventh years and it doesn't seem fair that I was safe at Beauxbatons when all of you were dealing with a madman and his followers."

Harry stared at his teacup as he said, "I'm glad you and your family were safe. Everyone who stayed behind suffered in one way or another at the hands of the Death Eaters."

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "Unfortunately, I sometimes feel cheated out of being able to do my part for my school and country by not participating in the battle."

"Actually, you shouldn't feel that way, Sally," Ginny said, entering the conversation for the first time. "Wizarding Britain needs every one of its citizens who went abroad before the war to come back to help like you have. You never know what a tutoring job like this will lead to; because so many of the Muggle-born children weren't allowed to go to school last year, there's a need for qualified witches and wizards to help them catch up so they can enter Hogwarts with their correct year and age groups."

Sally smiled. "Thanks, Ginny. I feel less left-out now," she said.

Mum cleared her throat. "Miss Perks, are you willing to take the hourly rate I can afford to pay, even if it is below what you expected to be paid?" she asked. Sally nodded. "And are you willing to come to wherever Dudley is living to teach him about the Wizarding world as well as the fundamentals of magical living?" When Sally answered affirmatively, she said, "I have made my decision. If Dudley agrees to work with the tutor of my choosing, I will send her an owl with the details of her employment which will start Monday morning at eight o'clock. Are the three of you agreeable?"

The three girls murmured their agreement as Dudley slid Sally's CV onto the top of the other two documents. He hoped his mother wanted Sally to be his tutor for he liked her attitude and thought the two of them would get along rather well in a student/teacher relationship. Not long after this, the girls and Harry and Ginny left to go back to Harry's house, leaving Dudley sitting in the lounge with his mum.

"Who have you chosen, Mum?" he asked.

"I'll be truthful, Dudley. I didn't like Miss Frobisher one bit," (Dudley had to agree with her) "and I liked Miss MacDougal, but think she has too many medical problems to be a reliable tutor for you, so we're left with Miss Perks. What did you think of her?"

"I liked her," Dudley said at once. "I liked that she was honest about her feelings towards Harry's war and that she came back to England to help with the recovery efforts. I think I could work with her easily."

"Then I'll call Harry and have him send my note of employment to Miss Perks," Mum said, standing up.

Dudley smiled to himself as she hurried to their room to write Sally her letter of employment.

*****

Later that night, when he was sure his mother was fast asleep, Dudley found his torch and searched through his mum's papers until he found Morag's CV. He smiled to himself as he made note of her address and the name of her home and tucked the piece of paper into his wallet. As he crawled back into bed, he hoped that Mrs Figg would let him make a Floo call to her just to chat. He had liked Morag instantly, not as a tutor, but as someone he could easily fancy.

*****

The first thing Sally asked Dudley on Monday morning was, "Is that wand your own?" and when he shook his head, she said, "It's time you have a proper wand and for that, we need to go to Diagon Alley. I've asked Harry and Ginny to meet us at the Leaky Cauldron in twenty minutes. Go get changed into something other than that ratty old shirt."

By the time Dudley was ready, Sally had wangled two twenty-pound notes out of her employer, invited her to come with them–and had been declined–and was standing by the fireplace tapping her foot impatiently. "You do know how to use the Floo Network?" she asked.

"I do, but you go first so I can copy what you do," Dudley said and as Sally disappeared, he hoped he wouldn't get lost.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed with people when he arrived and began searching for Sally. He spotted her at a table with his cousin and his girlfriend and lumbered over to them.

"I see you have passed your first test," Sally said, smiling at him as he sat down. "You managed to get to the right destination without needing a search party."

"You did better than I did," Harry commented. "I ended up in a Knockturn Alley shop full of skulls, cursed objects and a very scary proprietor."

"The difference between your successes," Ginny said thoughtfully, "is that you, Harry, were twelve at the time and Dudley here is six years older than you were and didn't have my entire family shouting instructions at him before he stepped into the fire."

"Is that what happened?" Dudley asked. Harry nodded, looking sheepish. "Really, it wasn't that hard. You'll have to tell me that story sometime." Dudley looked around. "What is this place? A pub?"

"It is," answered Sally, "but we're not here to sample the wares this morning." She stood up and gestured for Dudley, Harry and Ginny to follow her out the back door.

Dudley stopped just inside the entrance to Diagon Alley and turned to Harry and Ginny. "If you'd told me this was here seven years ago, I would have laughed at you," he said. "Now, I think I can fully appreciate what's here."

"Why do you say that?" Sally asked.

"I wasn't ready to accept there was a parallel world to the one I lived in," Dudley explained. "Harry can tell you what a coward I was when it came to all things magical when I was eleven."

"It didn't help that Hagrid gave him a pig's tail the first time they met," Harry said dryly.

"I deserved that," Dudley mumbled as he felt his ears heat up.

Harry looked sheepish as he explained, "Actually, your parents were the ones Hagrid thought needed the tails, but you were a much easier target."

Dudley chuckled. "They still are in some ways," he said. "Now where are we going first?"

"I need to exchange the money your mum gave me into Galleons," Sally said. She led the way through the crowded street, strolling so that Dudley could take everything in. As they walked, Harry and Ginny told him anecdotes about how the Wizarding street had changed from better to worse and back again over the years.

"It's not quite back to what it once was," Harry commented, "but it sure looks better than it did back in May: I like it so much better now that those 'Undesirable Number One' posters with my picture on them have disappeared."

"And the shops dedicated to the Dark Arts," Sally added with a shudder. "Hermione told me about those."

They reached Gringotts and Dudley was shocked when Harry and Ginny said they would wait outside. "Why aren't you going in?" he asked.

Harry's ears turned red as he explained, "I'm not very popular with the goblins right now. Hermione, Ron and I erm… sort of… stole a dragon and blasted our way out of the bank in May." He said the last very quietly and so fast that Dudley almost didn't catch it.

"Is that what you were up to while I was stuck in the safe house?" Dudley asked. "I missed out on a lot!"

"Come on, Dudley," Sally said, tugging at his sleeve. "Harry can tell you the story later if he wants. Right now, you need to learn how to deal with the goblins."

Fifteen minutes later, Dudley nearly sprinted out of the bank. It wasn't that he was scared of the shrewd little beings, it was just that he hadn't expected to be interrogated or taken advantage of quite so readily. Thank goodness Sally had known what the exchange rate was so that he hadn't been overcharged. As it was, he now clutched a bag filled with six gold Galleons and some silver and bronze coins, too.

"Those little buggers wanted half my money!" he burst out to Harry and Ginny and was dismayed when they started laughing.

"You'll need to be politer to them the next time you go in there by yourself," Sally scolded as she came up behind him.

"What'd he do?" Harry asked.

"Lost his temper," Sally said. "That's all I'll say." She looked at her watch. "I think Ollivander's should be open by now."

Harry's eyebrows shot into his fringe. "Mr Ollivander is back in business so soon? I thought he wanted to recover a bit more," he said to Sally.

"It's so close to the reopening of Hogwarts that he's opening in the mornings three days a week so that the first years can get their wands," she explained. "My youngest sister bought her wand from him yesterday."

They made good progress down the crooked, cobblestoned street, finally stopping in front of a shop with boarded up windows and a sign on the door that said "OPEN." They entered and Dudley heard Ginny gasp, "Oh my!"

"There's not much here," Harry told Dudley in a whisper. "There must have been two thousand wands lining the walls of this shop when I bought my wand eight years ago. Now look at it!"

The shelves lining the walls of the shop were completely barren except for one lonely shelf that held maybe twenty wands. A stooped and wizened old man came into the showroom from the back, his face lighting up when he saw who his customers were.

"Harry, my boy! It's so good to see you!" he exclaimed, coming up to Dudley's cousin and shaking his hand. He greeted Ginny and Sally in a similar manner. "Are you here to pick out a new wand, Harry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head and handed his wand to the old man who inspected it with interest. "Remarkable, remarkable," he murmured. "You repaired it with… the other one?" Harry nodded. "And does it work correctly for you?"

"Never better," Harry replied, taking back his wand and exchanging a significant look with the wandmaker that Dudley didn't understand.

"Erm, Mr Ollivander, I've brought Dudley to get his first wand," Sally said. "Might you have a wand that will choose him?"

"Oh, I hope so," Mr Ollivander said, wringing his hands. "I've only managed to make a few wands over the summer and so many people need one after what the Death Eaters did to those poor people they threw into Azkaban."

He bustled over to the shelf, pulled out several boxes and brought them over to where Dudley was standing. He handed him a wand–stating that it was oak and dragon heartstring, ten inches, and rather rigid–and told him to give it a swish. Absolutely nothing happened.

"Oh, I like a mystery man," Mr Ollivander chortled.

It took several trips back and forth between the shelf and Dudley before something happened. Mr Ollivander had just handed him a twelve-inch rowan and dragon heartstring wand when Dudley felt a sudden warmth in his fingers and gold sparks issued from the tip of the wand.

"You've been chosen!" cried Mr Ollivander happily and indeed he did look happy.

Dudley gently and not with a little awe, put the wand back in its box as the old wizard began clearing away the other wands he'd brought out. "How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"Three Galleons," answered Mr Ollivander. "Take good care of it and your wand will take good care of you."

They left after Dudley paid and spent the rest of the morning gathering supplies from the apothecary, the bookseller, the cauldron maker and, for Ginny, school and dress robes from a shop called Madam Malkin's. Sally and Dudley parted company with Harry and Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Thanks for coming with us," Dudley said. "Your stories of this place make me want to come back and explore it some more."

"Not today, though, Dudley," Sally said. "I think we should go back to Mrs Figg's and start experimenting with that new wand of yours."

*** **

Later, after dinner, Dudley asked Mrs Figg if he could make a fire call to Harry. She handed him her tin of Floo Powder saying, "Don't take too long."

"I won't," he promised as he knelt on the hearth rug. "What time do you want me home in case Harry invites me over?" He sincerely hoped Harry would because he had something important to discuss with him. It would be the first time they ever held a face-to-face conversation alone.

"Nine o'clock," replied Mrs Figg.

Dudley had never fire called Harry's house before, so he was quite surprised when his head entered the flames of a fireplace that opened into a large and cheery kitchen, its white walls reflecting the last of the evening sun that set a row of copper pots gleaming. He was further startled by the tiny elderly creature that greeted him.

"Master is in the library. Kreacher will get him," the garden gnome-like being croaked, and before Dudley could say anything else, it had popped out of existence.

Dudley shifted uncomfortably on the hearth rug as the stones dug into his knees. It was several minutes before Harry came clattering down a set of stairs into the kitchen.

"Hey, Dudley, I wasn't expecting to see you in my fire. What's up?" Harry asked.

"Erm, can I come over?" Dudley asked. "My knees are killing me."

"Just a second. I need to open the Floo completely," Harry said. He seemed a bit reluctant.

Dudley withdrew his head and waited to the count of thirty and then tried again, this time walking completely into Harry's kitchen at the end of his ride. "Nice place you've got here," he commented as Harry led him upstairs and into what looked like the front parlour. "What was that garden gnome-like thing that took my call?"

"Garden gno– Oh! That's my house-elf, Kreacher. He's sort of like my butler," Harry answered, gesturing towards a couple of chairs.

Dudley sat, too startled to comment. _Harry has a butler? Brilliant! _

Silence stretched between them as Harry strode over to a small liquor cabinet and poured a brown and faintly smoking liquid into two glasses. He handed one to Dudley. "Firewhisky. A Wizarding delicacy. Cheers." He raised his glass and took a sip. Dudley did the same, his eyes watering as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat.

"Erm, Harry," Dudley began when he could speak again, "Mum told me the night she wrote to you that she's apologized for all the awful things she did to you when you were living with us. It's, erm… my turn to do that now."

Harry looked surprised, but said nothing.

"Harry, I'm… I'm sorry that I used you as my personal punching bag and laughed at you and deliberately got you in trouble with Mum and Dad when we were younger. I know you can't forgive me for bullying you the way I did, but I'm hoping that now that we're of age we can at least be on speaking terms."

Harry stared into his glass as he answered, "You're right that I can't forgive and forget what it was like to watch Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon indulge your every whim while I was left out of everything or what it felt like every time you punched or taunted me. However, I think the biggest lesson I learned from my year on the run is that I can't let the negative aspects of the past dictate what my future will be. I spent too many years dealing with a prophecy and the madman who believed it to let what you and your parents did to me dictate how I act as an adult towards you. That said, if Ginny hadn't been here when I received your mum's letter, we wouldn't be sitting here because I wouldn't have bothered writing back to her. I probably would have thrown the letter away, but she convinced me that family is more important than hanging on to bad memories." He sighed and finally looked up at Dudley. "So if you want to bury the hatchet and try to be proper cousins, I'm not guaranteeing that we can ever be best mates, but at least I promise to not slam the Floo shut every time you call me."

Dudley relaxed and took another sip of his Firewhisky. "I can live with that," he said with a small smile. Harry smiled lopsidedly back at him.

"How'd the lessons go this afternoon?" asked Harry, changing the subject.

"They went all right. I learned how to unlock a door, cancel a spell and make the tip of my wand glow. I didn't do too well with my potion, though. Mrs Figg didn't like the black smoke that came out of my pot, er cauldron, very much," Dudley reported sheepishly. "Tomorrow I start Transfiguration and something called Herbology."

"All the basics. Think you'll catch on fast?"

"Yeah, I will now that I have my wand. I like everything Sally's teaching me so far."

"How does Aunt Petunia feel about all this?"

"That's the other thing I came to talk to you about, Harry," Dudley said. "I tried to show her what Sally had taught me and she ignored me. All she wanted to talk about was finding us a place to live–one far away from Dad–that would allow wizards and Muggles to live together. She's worried I'll get in trouble for doing magic in front of her."

"That won't happen, Dudley," Harry said. "I spoke to the powers that be in the Improper Use of Magic Office about you and Aunt Petunia and they won't send the hit-wizards round to your house every time you start learning new spells around Aunt Petunia."

Feeling quite relieved but still a bit nettled, Dudley said, "I appreciate that. I'll tell Mum." He waited a few seconds and then tried again. "Harry, when my wand chose me today, it suddenly felt as if I really belonged to something, like I wasn't an outsider any more. Was it like that with you?"

Harry sipped his drink, looking thoughtful. "Everything was so new and I knew I was going back to your house, so it wasn't until I walked into Hogwarts that I really felt I belonged there," he said. "Why do you ask?"

Dudley swirled the liquid in his glass, but did not drink. "Don't laugh, Harry. I'm serious…" He took a deep breath and said, "Until today, I've always felt that I had no direction in my life because people kept telling me I couldn't do the things I wanted. Mum and Dad punished you for the magic I did as a kid because they were trying to 'cure' me of it, Smeltings initially didn't want me because of all the reports of bullying in my school files, the Smeltings matron said I couldn't eat what I wanted because they didn't make school uniforms big enough for me and now Dad doesn't want to be around me because I've chosen to learn magic. When my wand chose me today it was as if it was telling me that if I learn to use the powers I was born with, I can be anything I want to be. Can someone like me choose a Muggle career and still be a wizard?"

Harry smiled. "I don't see why not. No one should dictate what job you do; that's not what I fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters for. I hope Sally will be teaching you History of Magic because, as dull as the Hogwarts History ghost made his subject, I'm just beginning to understand why it's wrong to prevent others from living freely in a free society. You know, like Hitler did."

When Harry finished, Dudley said, "I'm glad you think that way, Harry, so I don't think you'll react the way Mum and Dad did when I told them I want to be an auto mechanic and now one whose business will be open to not only Muggles but to wizards and witches like you and Hermione who just might own cars some day."

"I take it you didn't like going to Smeltings," Harry said.

Dudley shook his head. "I hated it there. Every lesson was geared towards preparing us for our exams and tracking us towards university. I've never wanted to go to university, but I would have gone just to please Mum and Dad."

"So now what are you going to do?" Harry asked, looking curious.

"I found a vocational school that will teach me to repair cars in general and then specialize in specific brands like Aston Martin and Jaguar, but I think I'll wait to apply until I have a handle on this magic stuff," Dudley said.

"What does Morag thing of your plans?" Harry asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Startled, Dudley stared at Harry. "Who told you I'd talked to her?" he demanded.

"Morag sent Ginny a rather long letter asking about you, asking what sort of family you came from, whether Ginny thought your mum might object to you two going out, that sort of thing," Harry answered.

Dudley could feel the blood draining from his face. "What… what did she tell her?"

"That the only obstacle the two of you would have to overcome was your parents. Other than that, I think she said the two of you might be good for each other," Harry said, grinning.

Dudley flopped back in his chair. "That's good. I'll thank Ginny the next time I see her." He sat up, a thought just occurring to him, and fishing in his pocket for his last few Galleons and the few pound notes he'd managed to save, he handed them to Harry. "Would you have time to get me an owl? I want to get to know Morag better, but talking to her while kneeling isn't very fun. I think we could say a lot more to each other if I could write to her."

"Is Aunt Petunia all right with you getting a girlfriend and an owl?"

"She'll have to be if I'm to be part of the Wizarding world," Dudley said determinedly.

"I hope you're not jumping into this too fast, Dudley," Harry said. "Don't get me wrong; I like your plans, but are you trying to do too much all at once?"

"I had an entire year to think about what I want to do with my life, Harry, so I don't think I'm taking on too much at all. For once in my life, I'm not letting others do everything for me and that's a good thing, I think," Dudley said.

Harry pocketed the money and both wizards stood up. "I'll get you that owl, Dudley, and send it to you with a letter of introduction in a day or two," Harry said.

Dudley stuck out his hand and they shook. "Thanks, Harry, for talking to me tonight. I know I took you away from something, and I appreciate you helping me join the Wizarding world." He looked at his watch. "Nearly nine. Mrs Figg said she'd keep her Floo open until then."

"Can't have you getting out at the wrong grate because the one you want is closed," Harry chuckled and led the way down to his own fireplace.

*****

Epilogue: Six Years Later

A sleek green Aston Martin pulled into the car park of a London repair shop and a stylishly dressed young man stepped out, followed by his wife, who carried a baby carrier. Dudley put down his wrench, pulled his wand to Scourgify his hands and walked out to greet his visitors.

"Hello, Harry. Good to see you, Ginny," he greeted them. "Is this the little tyke?"

"Yes, Dudley, meet James Sirius Potter," Ginny said, holding up the carrier so that Dudley could meet the newborn.

Dudley studied the sleeping child and then looked at his cousin. "He looks like Ginny," he commented, gazing at the boy's mop of ginger hair. "I thought he'd look like you."

Harry laughed. "Maybe the next one will," he said. "How's business?" he added as Dudley led them inside the office.

"Couldn't be better," Dudley answered. "Morag is happy with the number of new customers our new website is bringing in and is bugging me to become a certified BMW mechanic. The more brands I'm certified to repair, the more money we can bring in. You going to leave your Aston for an oil change?"

"Yes, but this morning the engine started missing and I was wondering if you could check it out," Harry said.

"Let me see when I can squeeze you in," Dudley said, flicking his wand in the direction of his desk. His appointment diary flew towards him and he plucked it neatly out of the air. "Hmmm, can you leave it? I have two oil changes in front of you and this sounds as if it could be a serious problem."

"I'll take Ginny to lunch," Harry said. "Call me when you know something."

"Will do." Dudley wrote Harry's name in the book, making it official. "How's Sally doing?" he asked, changing the subject. "She still tutoring rich blokes' midgets?"

"She's making quite the pile of Galleons with the client list she has now," Ginny said. "And the children aren't just from rich families any more. She's got quite a few middle income families now."

Dudley smiled. "She's a good teacher. I just wish Mum had warmed up to her more."

"Have you seen your parents lately?" Harry asked. "It's been a year since they got back together."

"Not since the wedding and that was six months ago," Dudley told him, shaking his head. "I know she and Dad are still getting along, Mum sent me a letter last month, but they want no contact with us 'paranormal' people."

"I guess Uncle Vernon hasn't changed, then," Harry said, sounding rueful.

"Nope, and I don't think he ever will. Like a lot of people, he's afraid of what he doesn't understand. It's taken a long time, but I understand that now," Dudley sighed and levitated his appointment diary back to his desk.

Ginny said, "That's too bad. He's missing out on a lot not letting you and Morag into his life."

Dudley shrugged. "It's the way he is and Mum just follows along because she's afraid of what she knows."

The three of them stood together in the uncomfortable silence this subject always brought about. Finally, Harry looked at his watch. "We need to get going if we don't want to wait for a table, Ginny," he said. Turning to Dudley, he asked, "You'll call me when you have a diagnosis?"

"Yeah, I will, Harry. Do I need to cancel any spells?" Dudley asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'll do it." He flicked his wand at the car, sending his spell through the open office window.

"Have a good time at lunch." Dudley held the door for Ginny and the three of them walked out to the car park. Harry lifted a bag of baby supplies out of the boot and then handed Dudley his keys.

"See you later, Big D," he teased.

"See you later, Inspector," Dudley teased back. And as he watched his cousin and his family walk away, he wondered if he himself would ever be as satisfied with his life as Harry seemed to be.

_Probably_, he thought. _All I have to do is reach for my next goal_. He smiled to himself, thinking about the two goals he'd reached already: passing his N.E.W.T.s with Sally's help and marrying Morag. He was indeed well on his way to being contented with his life.


End file.
